


Oh, God. Please Don't be Dead.

by LibertyKingdom



Category: Miami Vice (TV), The Outsiders (1983)
Genre: F/M, for my friend Allie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21570082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertyKingdom/pseuds/LibertyKingdom
Summary: Loosely following the Plot of Miami Vice's Tale of the Goat
Relationships: Johnny Cade X Ricki Tubbs





	Oh, God. Please Don't be Dead.

Castillo’s stern face is softened, though his eyes maintain a weariness of a father figure that had not slept in ages for fear one of his children might not return. Today, the most dreaded of his worries manifested itself in something of a nightmare. Castillo hated making house calls like this. Especially, since he had once been on the receiving end of a crushing loss.

Ever a man of few words, Castillo starts. “Johnny Cade?” He waits for affirmation that he was speaking to the right man before continuing his spiel. “Lieutenant Martin Castillo, Miami Vice. May I come in?” He questions. His reservedness is on display as he shuffles into the entryway of Tubbs and Johnny’s apartment.

Bashful hues briefly glance about his employee’s place of residence. It was certainly her’s- correction- theirs. Some of the elements there did not speak solely of Tubbs’s personality and so they were attributed to the man standing before him. But Castillo, as badly as he wished, was not here to pass judgment on their living quarters nor to play the role of a guest. “There has been an incident.” This line feels painfully generic to be applying to one of their best detectives. Clearing his throat Martin offered, “why don’t you have a seat?” He doesn’t relish this task at all. After all, there is no easy way to do this. He can, however, comprehend the anxiety his statement has probably caused for he had once been on the receiving end with his beloved wife May.

“Tubbs,” he starts “has been involved in a dangerous case.” That statement was simplistic enough but there is more to it. “Things went horribly awry a few hours ago. A man named Legba has administered a neurological toxin into her bloodstream. It’s not looking good. If she survives this, the effects may be permanent. She may not be able to return to our department.” This though alone grieves every member of the OCB. Hands are shoved into the pockets of his black suit pants. He gives an ample pause before speaking again, “I’m here to give you a ride to the hospital if you want to visit her.”

Tubbs had been found face down in a blessedly drained pool. After Tubbs’s use had been expended, Legba and his men had simply thrown her away to die. Fortunately, her partner and her co-workers had scoured and upended half the county in search of her.  
At the hospital, Tubbs lays in a state of disconcerting repose. She hadn’t yet awakened from the drug and fall induced coma. Her usually beautiful brown skin holds a ghastly shade of ashen grey to it. There are leaves and bits of debris tangled within her frazzled curls. The only real sign that she was still living happened to be the barely noticeable motion of her chest raising and falling. The neurotoxin often created a death-like state. At best, the drug created a coma, severe body twitches, and hallucinations. At worse, the robbing of oxygen from the brain became so great that those injected would never rouse.

A masculine voice calls out to her, permeating the sea of fog encompassing her thoughts. The timbre of the voice is wholly familiar and it brings a warmth of recognition to her veins. That said, she can not quite place his name or worse still, his importance to her. (An effect of the powerful drug).

‘Oh god, please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.’

Long lashes flutter in an attempt to stir. However, her efforts to regain consciousness are to no avail. Her fingers of her right hand which had been balled into a tight fist, uncurl in a feeble effort to welcome his hand. It is her subconscious way of saying that she was fighting to return to him.

Lips twitch to form a word, though no real sound comes from her vocal cords. “Blackbird.” It’s meaning known only to her and Legba’s crew for now. If one wasn’t looking for her speech, they would clearly miss it.


End file.
